The wiser a man becomes, the more he will read, and those who are wisest read most.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSENEvery town, like every man, has its own countenance; they have a common likeness and yet are different; one keeps in his mind all their peculiar touches.
More Hans Christian Andersen Quotes
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A mermaid has not an immortal soul, nor can she obtain one unless she wins the love of a human being. On the power of another hangs her eternal destiny.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN -
Farewell, farewell,” said the swallow, with a heavy heart, as he left the warm countries, to fly back into Denmark. There he had a nest over the window of a house in which dwelt the writer of fairy tales. The swallow sang “Tweet, tweet,” and from his song came the whole story.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN -
To move, to breathe, to fly, to float, To gain all while you give, To roam the roads of lands remote, To travel is to live.
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Some are created for beauty, and some for use; and there are some which one can do without altogether.
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Being born in a duck yard does not matter, if only you are hatched from a swan’s egg.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN -
Almighty God, thee only have I; thou steerest my fate, I must give myself up to thee! Give me a livelihood! Give me a bride! My blood wants love, as my heart does!
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Just living is not enough… one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.
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Every town, like every man, has its own countenance; they have a common likeness and yet are different; one keeps in his mind all their peculiar touches.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN -
He looked at the little maiden, and she looked at him; and he felt that he was melting away, but he still managed to keep himself erect, shouldering his gun bravely.
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It was clear to me, as I glanced back over my earlier life, that a loving Providence watched over me, that all was directed for me by a higher power.
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The sun shines upon good and bad alike.
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Then she saw a star fall, leaving behind it a bright streak of fire. “Someone is dying,” thought the little girl, for her old grandmother, the only one who had ever loved her, and who was now dead, had told her that when a star falls, a soul was going up to God.
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Each time I think that the song is ended … something higher and better begins for me.
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The naive was only a part of my fairy tales; humour was the real salt in them.
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I have shed pewter tears! It is too melancholy! Rather let me go to the wars and lose arms and legs! It would at least be a change.
HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN